


I preferred my darling...

by aljohnson



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Romance, the long date at queenscliff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6924964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because plainly, there is at least one missing scene from 'The Long Date at Queenscliff'...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I preferred my darling...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to msjasbo for the title...

He tried not to blush as the Sergeant tried to fob him off. He wondered if Baxter could tell. He hoped not. And eventually, Jack would have to go back and face her. It was one of those things, Jack assured himself, that was just a mistake. Just muscle memory, kicking in automatically. And she hadn’t slapped him. She had in fact, done nothing of the sort. 

~~~~~~~~

“More so than entertaining a man in your private parlour?” the rumble in Jack’s voice was very promising, Phryne thought. And he was leaning towards her, and plying her with champagne, and, was that flirting? She thought it was. Well, well, well, Jack Robinson really was very different when you took him away from the stuffiness of Melbourne and City South. She found herself becoming quite breathless. 

“Lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine,” Jack read, glancing over towards her. Was she looking flushed? She was certainly regarding him very intently. He very much wished that her lips would touch his; liquor or no. And he was single now. In regrettable circumstances, of course, and nothing to be celebrated. But not married any longer. And Phryne, Miss Fisher, Phryne, knew that. But what did he want? He wasn’t sure; he had not allowed himself to think about it really. And what might she want? He knew about the men; she was hardly subtle. But maybe he only knew about them because he had a tendency to be around at her house quite so much? Certainly he felt very comfortable around her, and he thought she felt very comfortable around him. Or did she sit around in her parlour in her nightwear admitting anyone who happened to call by? He thought not. And it felt like something between them had shifted since that case involving her sister.

“I preferred ‘my darling’” she replied, softly. She could feel all her muscles tensing. Oh, he was being a delightful tease. Darling Mr B had shown Jack straight into her room, and Jack had made a bee-line straight for the chaise. Phryne supposed that he was more comfortable there than on the bed, but the fact that she had already been reclining on said chaise, without her shoes, and that he had confidently strolled across the room without so much as a blush, was very encouraging. She would very much like to kiss him. She would very much like to do much more than merely kiss him. But how did he feel about her? And what might he want? He was such a serious man, and until quite recently, very married. But now he was not married; that had been very clear from his interactions with Miss Sanderson. That meeting had been less awkward than she might have expected. But how had Jack’s wife, former wife, she reminded herself; how had Rosie heard quite so much about her if the Robinsons had been living apart for 'quite some time', as Jack had related? 

They were two single people, almost alone, in a town just far enough away from Melbourne. And Aunt P was mercifully distracted by her friend. And Mr B, who had taken control of the household situation, had placed her as far away as possible from the other occupants of the house. 

There was a mutual understanding that Jack would go and throw his superior rank around in the direction of Sergeant Baxter, and would then call at the Railway Station to send the evidence Phryne had gathered onto Melbourne on the late train before returning for dinner. 

As he deposited his tea mug on the small side table, Jack gathered the items up. 

“Well, good bye then.” He said. 

Leaning towards her, he kissed her on the cheek. As he retreated an inch, his brain realised with dawning horror what he had done. As he opened his mouth to apologise, Phryne’s head turned towards his. And before he quite knew what was happening, she was kissing him with open lips. Allowing his eyes to flutter closed, he responded. Her lips were warm, and soft, and she was a lot more cautious than he might have expected. A lot more cautious than he recalled; from the curious experience in the French Restaurant that he had been trying to forget. That had not been his finest hour. 

The touch of his lips to her cheek had been unexpected. But Phryne Fisher was never one to allow a gentleman’s advances go to waste if she wanted him to make those advances. She could feel more than see that he had frozen; presumably his mind had realised that this was not the turn their farewells usually took. All it would take would be her turning her head. 

So she did, and was pleasantly surprised when he sank himself into her lips. Good grief, what depths of passion was this man hiding beneath all the layers he insisted on wearing? This was different to that time at Anatole’s. For a start, she was very relaxed. And they were unobserved. She had wanted to kiss him again, if only to judge how he operated when he didn’t have the ‘I was distracting you’ excuse to fall back on, and when she could focus on it properly. He kissed very well, it turned out.

Their lips parted as they both tried to suppress moans. Neither of them was entirely successful.

“Well, erm, ah, I must be getting along to the station, Miss Fisher.”

“Of course you must. Give that Sergeant hell for me.” Phryne replied.

“Always another man involved,” responded Jack, with a twinkle in his eye. 

He rose, checked his pockets for the smaller items, gratefully accepted the bottle of whatever foul liquor it was that Phryne; Miss Fisher, was proffering towards him, and backed slowly away across the room. He had maintained eye contact until his back had hit the door, whereupon he had fumbled his way out into the hallway and met Mr Butler, who miraculously appeared to have a bag just the right size for everything. Then Jack had practically run for the Police Station, wondering what the hell had just happened.

~~~~~

It was because they spent so much time together, he mused as he walked slowly back up the hill from the Railway Terminus. They had an ease and a manner between them that was like it had been in the early days with Rosie. And he always kissed Rosie before he went out on Police Business. So his mind had just slipped and fooled him back into thinking that it was acceptable to kiss whichever woman you found yourself in a room with before you left her to go and work. Jack groaned. Now they would have to talk. Again. And he had no clue what he would say.


End file.
